The Scroll of Isidor

by Holden Sheppard

the death blow, parrying Desma and sending her reeling back. Lev seized the moment, diving sideways for his sword and wrestling the blade from the wood. When the blade wouldn't budge, he placed his palm on the wooden handle and used the last wisp of his magic to send a bead of energy into the wood; it relaxed from brown, varnished wood to a soft green stem. Lev pulled the blade from the shovel and scrambled to his feet, sword held before him.

  As he rose, he saw Pollock throw Desma to the ground. The Captain turned to finish him, but before he could raise his sword, Desma screamed and reached out, stabbing her dagger cleanly into Pollock's left calf.

  The man roared with agony - and in that moment of opportunity, Lev raised his sword and plunged it into Pollock's heart.

  Pollock's screams turned to a momentary gasp - and then he crumpled.

  A horrible silence reigned. The sickly smell of blood filled the dank air of the cavern. Desma coughed as she pushed herself up. Her gaze scanned the four dead bodies in the cavern. At once, she doubled over, retching violently.

  'Come on, we have to go,' Lev croaked thickly, holding a hand to help Desma up. His breath was ragged, his throat still aching. He stared in surprise at the large slash on his arm dripping with crimson; he couldn't even remember who or what had inflicted it on him.

  Desma took his hand; her tunic was torn, a graze across the side of her face, but she looked panicked at the thought of leaving.

  'The tunnel,' she said, gaping at the dark cavern through which the oil lamps shone dully. 'We can't leave it open - you heard Pollock! There are more of them further back - Peterin's army.'

  Lev waved a hand over the cluster of ivy on the ground; it rustled, but refused to move across and block the tunnel entrance like he wanted.

  'I can't,' he muttered. He tasted something foul and warm in his mouth; his nose was bleeding. 'Too weak.'

  'But - they'll -'

  'We'll get men from the village. We need to leave here now, I'm telling you! I need to see Magnus.'

  Lev dragged Desma by the hand further into the cavern; the horses had spooked, even old Huck with his wartime training. They tracked them a couple of turns away and mounted, then Lev led the way back out of the cavern, into the clearing, past the Rock of Rekkor and back down the mountain to the Chief's Cabin.

  'Woah!' Lev shouted, yanking Huck's reigns as they reached the cabin at the edge of the village.

  Without seeing how far behind Desma was, he leapt off the saddle and raced into the cabin, boots thudding up the spiral staircase as his lungs struggled to catch air.

  He charged along the upstairs corridor, drawing his sword. There would be no more knocking at the gnarled wooden door of Magnus' Den: Lev raised his sword and ploughed through the thin door, pieces of wood splintering away as he hacked violently.

  Magnus shouted in alarm - the noise had woken him.

  Lev reached a bloodied hand through the gaps in the door and yanked the metal bolt open. He threw what remained of the door back on its hinges and strode right up to Magnus' bedside, keeping his blade behind him.

  'Jecarro, what the shit -' Magnus mumbled, sitting up slowly. The young woman in his bed opened her eyes and shrank against the wall.

  Lev hurled the scroll at Magnus, blood dripping to the floor from the gash on his forearm.

  'Explain this,' he yelled. 'Explain it, Magnus!'

  The Chief didn't even need to open the scroll. The red wax seal bore the insignia of Isidor. He looked up guiltily.

  'I told you not to go to the mountain,' he said darkly. 'You should have listened.'

  'You sold us out!' Lev cried. 'You sold us - your people - to the pirate Isidor - for your own selfish gain!'

  'You can come with me, Lev,' Magnus said. It was the first time he'd used his real name in a long time. 'Isidor is a man of commerce. You can do a deal with him, too.'

  'Why?' Lev demanded, staring at Magnus' bulbous nose, stubbornly upturned. 'Why would you do this to us?'

  'A soldier like you wouldn't understand!' Magnus bellowed, sitting up higher against the bedhead. His crusty eyes met Lev's and there was a sudden evenness to them. 'Isidor is not like King Rowan. He has rejected the regalia of the Halo. He doesn't abide by our codes of honour.' He swallowed audibly. He was afraid. 'Isidor doesn't negotiate terms with his enemies, jecarro. He kills them.'

  'So you decided to surrender before he killed you,' Lev snarled. 'He bought you out. You chose gold and sanctuary in a far off land before protecting your own people.'

  'I decided not to be his enemy,' Magnus said. 'It was the only way to avoid death. I make no apologies for it.'

  'And what about the thousands of people who will suffer under Isidor's rule, if he invades?' Lev demanded, voice breaking with rage. His mind was clouding with incandescent fury, like it did on the battlefield. Words were no longer enough. 'What happens to all of us, while you sun yourself in Takara?'

  An uncomfortable smile pricked the edges of Magnus' lips - like he was secretly proud of his manoeuvre. 'I don't know,' he said. 'But it's not my problem anymore.'

  'You treacherous fuck.'

  Magnus swelled his chest in derision. 'You don't talk to me like that, jecarro. I am your Chief.'

  Fire burned through Lev's veins.

  'No,' he said. 'You were my Chief.'

  Lev raised his sword. The old man didn't even have time to lift his hands in alarm; he sat perfectly still, arms by his side, as the sword swished through the air towards his chest. The girl screamed and dived onto the floor, curling up in the corner of the room.

  But the resistance of Magnus' chest never struck the blade. Lev lurched forward, the sword in his hands suddenly lighter than air and soft as petals.

  Magnus grinned savagely, yellowed teeth bared, and said, 'Oh, jecarro, you shouldn't have.'

  Lev blinked and stared at where the sword had been in his hand just a second before. He now brandished a large bouquet of slender, ripe red roses, bound together by a circle of twigs. The crimson petals brushed the corner of Magnus' robe, the verdant stems bent against his chest.

  Red-hot terror surged through Lev's veins. In his race to confront the Chief, he had forgotten one crucial element: Magnus was a Peril Mage. His powers, usually uninspiring, were most powerfully unleashed when he was in mortal danger.

  Like when Lev had raised the sword to his chest.

  Magnus plucked a petal from the bouquet and held it to his nose. 'A sweet scent,' he said, deathly quiet. 'Ah, jecarro, look! You made the mistake of an amateur.' He traced a finger along one of the rose stems, now trembling in Lev's hand. 'You didn't remove the thorns.'

  Magnus brandished his hand swiftly over the stems of the roses; at once, every thorn was stripped from them and rose into the air, enveloped by a miasma of green light. Lev dropped the bouquet and lurched backwards as he realised what was happening, throwing his hands over his eyes as Magnus cried out and launched the volley of thorns at his face. Lev screamed as the thorns speared into his skin, burrowing into his face like leeches and scratching into his flesh.

  Lev dove blindly for the floorboards, his thick fingers scrabbling at his face and trying to pull the thorns out - but more flew through the air, slicing his hand. He doubled over onto the wooden floorboards, blood trickling down his face, and then began moving his palms in a rhythmic, circular motion against the floor. The wood glowed with an emerald light; Lev directed it across the room, until all the floorboards beneath Magnus' bed were radiant with the glow.

  'NOW!' Lev screamed, directing all his will into the floor.

  At once, the solid, splintery wooden floorboards became young again - limp and green, like a nascent bud. Unable to support the weight of Magnus and his bed, the spongy, living green floor sagged momentarily, and then tore itself apart.

  Magnus screamed as the floor disappeared beneath him; his bedframe rocketed through the hole to the ground floor and crashed down onto the stone floor below.

  Panting, Lev told the rem
aining floorboards to harden again, and they did, cracking and crunching as they became dried wood again.

  Blood still trickling down his face from the now-stationary thorns, Lev crawled to the edge of the gaping hole and peered down. The bed was nearly destroyed, its limbs mutilated, the mattress rent to smithereens; rogue feathers floated in the air.

  Magnus was sprawled, spread-eagled, on the stone floor. A clump of white feathers beneath him looked to have partially broken his fall. A few feathers were speckled with red.

  Lev tensed on the edge of the hole, gaze trained on Magnus' body for a sign of movement.

  He jumped as the floorboards creaked; he jerked his head around to see the Chief's girl fleeing the bedroom, her sobs muffled against her tunic.

  'Lev! Are you alright?'

  The panicked voice came from the ground floor. Lev peered back over the lip of the hole in the floorboards.

  Desma stood awkwardly at the foot of the shattered bed, eyes flicking between the hole in the ceiling and Magnus' body on the ground. Her dagger was in her hand, though she held it limply.

  'I'm fine,' Lev called. 'Desma, stay away from the Chief. I don't know if he's -'

  He was interrupted by Desma's shriek.

  Magnus' eyes had flown open, his left arm raised in a circular, conjuring motion. Sparks of green light swirled into lariats, forming a long loop of thick, juicy vine, which the Chief launched through the air at Desma, like a venomous snake unfurling itself for a deadly strike.

  The vine wrapped around Desma's neck, crushing her windpipe, before it lifted her horizontally into the air and slammed her body against the stone mantle of the fireplace.

  A sickening crack reverberated through the room as her head struck the mantle.

  Her limp body dropped to the stone floor.

  'Desma!' Lev screamed.

  Before he knew what he was doing, Lev hurled himself through the hole in the floorboards, aiming for the largest pile of bed feathers he could see.

  His legs crunched as he landed on the feathers and rolled toward the armoury cabinet. Pain sparked up his calves like a thousand pinpricks, but he clambered back to his feet, steadying himself against the oak cabinet.

  'STOP, MAGNUS!' Lev roared.

  The Chief was miraculously on his feet, his torn robe dangling behind him as he lurched clumsily for the door to the stables.

  Rage taking hold, Lev twisted his right hand in a circular motion, forming a cluster of sharp sticks which he launched at Magnus like a rain of spears. Magnus glanced over his shoulder and launched another vine, which whipped two of the miniature spears away; two others ricocheted off the stone floor; and two of them pierced the flesh on his back.

  Magnus howled, but still clutched the handle of the stable door - but then another vine snaked across the room, wrapping around his wrist and squeezing his forearm.

  Lev whirled around in surprise.

  Desma stood in front of the fireplace, flames burning behind her as her body rose into the air, suspended in an aura of golden light. Her skin had the look of used candlewax; her green irises were alight with radiance. Her flaming auburn hair blew back off her face as if energy was radiating from her body. The vine Magnus had used to choke her was still knotted around her neck - but it was now under her control, the other end wrapped around Magnus' arm.

  As Lev watched in disbelief, Desma's jaw opened wide, her eyes rolling back in her head as if she were possessed by a demon. With a jagged jilt of her head, she let out a piercing shriek, like the tortured scream of a dying Pekron, and a burst of yellow light rippled down the vine connecting her to Magnus.

  The Chief had turned, his face just as slack with shock as Lev's, his eyes tracking the bead of yellow light as it reached the vine tied around his wrist.

  Suddenly, the vine began to split apart, multiple green shoots exploding from a single point. A dozen vines, maybe more, sprang forth, wrapping themselves around Magnus. His arms were pulled back from the door; his chest was bound; his neck restrained ? and then the vines wound around his ankles and lifted the plump man into the air.

  And in one smooth motion, the web of vines hurled Magnus into the wall, slamming his full weight against the stone before lifting him again and throwing him to the floor.

  Desma roared with revenge before the golden glow around her body dissolved in an instant. Her pendulous body dropped to the floor like a stone into a dry well.

  For a moment, there was ringing silence throughout the Chief's Cabin.

  Then the vines around Magnus' body began to crack and harden, each of them splintering into dust as the Peril Mage shook them off.

  Lev gaped, incredulous at the Chief's resilience, yet also incensed that Desma's blow hadn't finished him. He reached into the armoury cabinet, withdrew one of Eddren's old swords and marched across the stone floor to where Magnus was pulling himself up against the doorknob.

  'It's over, Magnus!' Lev shouted. 'Stay down!'

  Magnus couldn't haul his weight up to his feet. He turned the doorknob, then fell back to the floor, his fat face funnelled into a triumphant smirk.

  'As you wish, jecarro.'

  He threw the door open. At once, a gust of icy wind blew into the cabin, but it brought more than cold: a tornado of alpine leaves swirled through the doorway, as tall as Lev himself.

  The leaf vortex swirled and roared, forming a barrier between Lev and the Chief.

  'No you don't!' Lev bellowed, grasping Eddren's sword and charging headlong into the vortex.

  At once, the razor-sharp leaves began to scour his skin, slicing through with ease. He couldn't open his eyes against the maelstrom. Even his cuirass was barely a protection: these leaves were jagged, serrated, whirling and piercing his skin in a thousand tiny cuts.

  'Argh!' Lev crumpled to the ground, curling into himself against the leaf tornado. His breath was sharp and ragged in his throat. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears. The cuts weren't stopping. He could smell his own blood all around him.

  I can't beat this vortex with resilience or strength, he thought in a panic.

  He thought of the ivy in the mountain cave and knew what he had to do. He screwed his eyes shut tightly and focused his energies on the leaves as they made contact with his skin, felt into them.

  You are distressed, he soothed them. There is no cause for alarm. You belong on the ground.

  The leaves began to whirl more slowly.

  To the ground, Lev commanded. His nose opened and began to gush with blood.

  'TO THE GROUND!' he screamed.

  At once, the tornado blew out and a shower of crusty leaves rained down onto Lev's back and to the floor. Lev opened his eyes and spotted something shiny among the leaves on the floor - Desma's dagger.

  Lev rose immediately, silver stars sparking into his line of vision. His tunic was soaked in blood. His head was spinning, but his legs kept moving - through the door, into the frigid night air between the cabin and the stables.

  Magnus was ten feet ahead, his cold, thick fingers fumbling with the stable door. The roar of the blustery wind covered the sound of Lev's boots on the snow: the soldier raced across the yard and reached Magnus while the Chief's back was turned.

  He switched Eddren's sword into his left hand and pressed it into Magnus' fleshy neck.

  'You should never have betrayed Flaran, Magnus,' he said thickly.

  The Chief clutched his thin robe to his body against the cold.

  'You should have stayed down, jecarro,' Magnus snarled. His face was grazed and covered in pinpricks of blood. 'But, like any soldier, you can't reason what's in your own best interests.'

  'I don't care about my own interests,' Lev shot back. 'That's the difference between us.'

  He raised Eddren's sword to plunge it into Magnus' neck; but even as he moved to do so, he felt the blade transform under Magnus' spell, becoming a useless fern.

  But Lev had anticipated the Peril Mage's modus operand
i. Without flinching, he raised Desma's dagger in his dominant right hand and drew the blade swiftly across Magnus' throat.

  Magnus' body stiffened suddenly, his face twisted in an expression of shock, a crimson line of death forming across his neck.

  Undeterred, Lev raised the dagger again and plunged it directly into the Chief's heart.

  Magnus crumpled to the snow. By the time his body reacted, limbs jerking wildly as blood blossomed over his silken robe, it was too late. Lev was vaguely aware of the horses inside the stable whinnying in alarm, but he didn't care. He needed to see the traitor die; to know that it was done. Magnus had betrayed them all. He had killed Desma. The only justice was death.

  Once the body was still, Lev heard footsteps reach the threshold of the cabin.

  'God's arse,' Desma said. 'Is he dead?'

  Electricity danced down Lev's spine. He whirled around, sure his ears were playing tricks on him.

  Desma stood in the doorway, silhouetted by the firelight.

  Adrenaline racing through him, Lev stumbled across the snowy yard to meet her at the door. Her skin had colour in it again; her eyes were green but no longer had the possessed glow of iridescence. She was badly roughed up, her hair tousled and cuts on her skin, but she was clearly alive.

  Lev threw his arms around her and pulled her into a bone-crunching embrace. 'I thought you died ?'

  Desma coughed. 'I think I did.'

  Lev drew back from her. 'The power you had, Desma - it was beyond anything I've ever seen. I think you might be a Peril Mage yourself.'

  'Might be,' Desma said. Her eyes were quite wide. 'Although I never knew a Peril Mage could die and come back from it.' She frowned at Lev's quizzical look. 'I mean it. There were a few seconds there where ? I actually can't remember ? but I know I wasn't in this world anymore. I came back, Lev. I don't know how. Is there a type of mage that can do that?'

  Lev shook his head. 'Never heard of that. I'm sure you were just unconscious.'

  He stepped into the cabin; as the firelight illuminated his face, Desma gasped.

  'What happened to your face?' she cried, gingerly touching Lev's cheek.

  'Thorns,' Lev said, pulling one out painfully. 'A parting gift from Magnus.'

  'You killed him?'

  'Magnus committed treason. I relieved him of his duties,' Lev said, wiping Desma's dagger on a small unsullied patch of his